Happy Birthday
by Renee6061
Summary: On her birthday, Martha gets a surprise. So does Clark.


Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

Author's Note: Just a little piece of romantic fluff, written in response to the Birthday Challenge at another site. (Also written because I've always wanted to see Jonathan and Martha on that motorcycle. I realize we don't know if Jonathan or Clark ever retrieved it from Metropolis, but let's just assume they did!) Thanks, as ever, to Smallvillian, whose creativity stays fresh when mine runs dry.

Happy Birthday

"It's too bad you have to work on your birthday, Mom," Clark was saying as Jonathan walked into the kitchen.

Martha laughed as she rinsed out her coffee cup. "Most people do, sweetie."

"Yeah, but on a Saturday—it just doesn't seem right."

"Oh, honey, it's no big deal." Martha was setting her cup in the sink when she suddenly stopped and stood still, her gaze far away.

"Martha?" Jonathan paused in the act of getting his own mug out of the cupboard. "Something wrong?"

Martha shook herself from her reverie, though her eyes were still a bit wistful. "No, nothing. Clark just reminded me of my sixteenth birthday." She glanced over at Clark and smiled. "I kept complaining to my mother that sixteen was a _special_ birthday and I shouldn't have to go to school. She told me I had to go anyway. And then, at noon, she turned up at the school and whisked me off for lunch and an afternoon of shopping. I still don't know what excuse she gave them." She chuckled again, softly. "We never even told my father."

Clark had come to the sink to rinse his own dishes, slipping his last piece of bacon to Shelby on the way. He set them down and put an affectionate arm around his mother. "Wanna try it again? I have to meet Chloe at the Talon later to work on an article. I could smuggle you out the back way and take you to lunch."

"Thanks, sweetie." Martha returned his hug. "But I'm afraid there's just no time today. You know how Chloe would howl if I weren't there to serve her triple cappuccino."

Clark gave a mock shudder. "Yeah, better not risk it. Well, I'll see you over there, anyway."

"Okay, honey."

As Clark went out to the yard to take care of his chores, Martha turned and stood on tiptoe to give Jonathan a quick kiss on the lips. "See you later, sweetheart." She grabbed her purse and headed after Clark.

"Have a good day." Jonathan stood looking after her, thoughtfully swinging the cabinet door back and forth with one hand. Then, all at once, he turned and strode across the kitchen, Shelby trotting at his heels, and called up the stairs.

"Lois? Could you come here, please?"

For a moment, the answer was silence. Then, at last, the only member of the Kent household who slept late on Saturdays appeared on the steps, still in her pajamas. "Hey, Mr. Kent." She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "What's up? Besides me, I mean."

Jonathan smiled. "Sorry, Lois, but I was just wondering if you could help me with something."

Martha was lifting a tray from the counter when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, ma'am. You wouldn't by any chance be the birthday girl, would you?"

Martha started and looked around, eyes brightening. "Jonathan!" Then she did a double take at the sight of the nice light blue shirt and khaki slacks he was wearing. "Going somewhere special?"

"Actually, I'm here for my revenge."

"Revenge," Martha repeated slowly, with a puzzled look.

"Mm-hmm." He took the tray from her, set it back on the counter, and sat down on a stool next to her. "You see, once I was trying to get a full day's work done, and this beautiful woman came along and made off with me, and I didn't get a thing done for the rest of the afternoon."

"Really?" She leaned against his arm. "What a shame."

"That's what I thought. So now I'm gonna get back at her." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I even left a note with the principal."

Martha grinned. "You're taking me shopping?"

Jonathan tilted his head to one side and pretended to consider it, even as his hand ran lightly up and down her arm. "Maybe. Or . . . maybe we could think of something else."

Martha gazed at him fondly. "Oh, sweetheart. I wish I could." A small sigh escaped her. "But I don't see how I can get away—there's so much to do here . . ."

"All taken care of, Mrs. Kent."

Martha jumped again as Lois spoke right next to her ear. At the same moment, she felt her apron being lifted over her head.

"You're all set." Lois was speaking to Jonathan now, while brushing a few strands of Martha's hair back into place. "All afternoon. Everyone was happy to help cover."

"Thanks, Lois." Jonathan reached around Martha and gave her a quick handshake. "I appreciate it."

"Oh, so you were both involved in this plan to carry me off?"

It wasn't until the words were out of Martha's mouth that she realized what she'd said. And she knew, even before she saw the wicked sparkle appear in Jonathan's blue eyes, that it had been a very foolish thing to say.

"Jonathan—don't you dare! _Jonathan_!"

Over at a table by the window, Chloe turned her head to see what the commotion by the counter was all about. Her eyes grew big. "Clark! Look at that!"

Clark looked up. "What's the—" His jaw literally dropped at the sight of his father, with a grin as big as the noonday sky and just as bright, carrying his mother, in fits of laughter, through the Talon. The other staffers and patrons had begun to applaud and cheer.

Clark's voice, when he finally found it, came out somewhere between a moan and a gurgle. "Chloe, please tell me I'm not really seeing this . . ."

He wasn't left in doubt for long. Jonathan paused by the table and spoke to him over Martha's head. "Son, I left a list of chores for you on the counter at home, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer, just gave his son a quick goodbye nod and headed for the door as Clark slumped down in his seat and hid his face on the table.

Martha laid her head against her husband's shoulder, trying to catch her breath. "He'll never speak to you again," she gasped, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"He'll get over it," Jonathan replied cheerfully, leaning against the door to open it. "Besides, embarrassment builds character. One day he'll thank us."

As the door swung shut behind the two of them, Chloe jumped up and joined the others who were crowding to the window. "Clark, I didn't know your dad rode a motorcycle!" she whooped. She stayed glued to the window, brown eyes dancing. "No, scratch that. I didn't know _both_ your parents rode a motorcycle!"

Clark still had his face buried in his arms. "Parents?" he mumbled. "What parents? I've never seen those people before in my life."

"Really?" teased Lois, who had strolled over to their table just in time to catch this. "That's funny. 'Cause they look a lot like those people I caught making out in your living room just the other day."

Clark raised a very red face and fixed her with a baleful eye. "Lois . . ." Then he caught sight of Martha's apron, which Lois was absentmindedly rolling into a ball.

"Lois," he repeated, in the tone of a Grand Inquisitor. "Did you have anything to do with what just happened?"

Lois shrugged innocently, pulling out a chair and helping herself to a bite of his cookie. "So, I've always had this strange desire to be a fairy godmother."

"Figures," Clark sighed. "Life is always just a little . . . _weirder_ when you're around."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lois responded graciously. "I just helped, though. It was your dad who had the idea."

"That figures, too," Clark said morosely, resting his chin on his arms.

"Oh, come on, Clark," Chloe broke in, dropping back into her chair. "Don't be such a fuddy-duddy. That was sweet." She took a sip of her coffee, looking roguishly at him over her cup. "Your dad's a farmer and a gentleman."

"Yeah, but why does he have to be one in front of half the town?" Clark felt himself caught in a familiar conflict, between a deep if silent admiration for what his parents had, and a teenage boy's fervent desire not to get too close a view of what they had.

Chloe regarded him with exasperation and amusement struggling in her eyes. "Clark, don't you see? That's the whole point." Seeing his blank look, she went on, "Every woman wants a guy who loves her so much he'd be willing to do anything for her. Even—" she gestured toward the window, a little theatrically—"even make a fool of himself in front of the entire world!"

Clark eyed her, looking anything but convinced. "I don't see why. I mean, isn't it just as good for a guy to keep things—well, dignified?" He realized that wasn't exactly the word he wanted, and tried again. "Doesn't a girl still know you love her if you just, you know . . . tell her in private?"

A family resemblance Clark had never noticed before manifested itself as both girls rolled their eyes in unison. Lois shook her head as she got up and shoved in her chair. "I've got to get back to work, Chloe. I'll leave the lunkhead to you."

But she paused just long enough to give Clark a condescending pat on the head, smiling sweetly as he responded with another glare. "Smallville, my friend, you've got a lot to learn."

The End


End file.
